Sleeping Fluty
by LaedieDuske
Summary: Just another night in the lives of the Winchesters: Dean is sick and Sam is worn out. Happy VERY late birthday Dizzo!


**Title: Sleeping Flu-ty**

**Author: Laedie Duske**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, would cherish and protect them forever if I did**

**Word Count: 822**

**Warnings: Enough schmoop to rot your teeth probably**

**Spoilers: None**

**A/N: A _VERY_ belated birthday offering for my dearest Dizzo. I had initially intended a timestamp to _If A Winchester Falls In The Forest_, but this came to me first. I have ideas kicking around for a timestamp or two as well, though. Not sure this was worth the wait, but this is for you my friend.**

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

A soft, whuffly whimper from the bed closest to the door drew Sam's attention away from the open laptop in front of him. Dean's head was the only thing showing, the rest covered under a thick layer of blankets. His face was no longer candy apple red with fever. Now it was pale as porcelain with twin splashes of red riding high on those prominent cheekbones, sleep making his freckled face look all of five years old. The child he never was peeking out from behind the deadly Hunter's face.

He had been in and out of lukewarm water probably a dozen times over the last several days. His soft spiky hair, alternately matted with sweat and rinsed thoroughly before being dragged restlessly over the pillow again, stood in tufted clumps. It looked like patches of his hair were trying to make a break for freedom.

A small smile flirted with the corners of Sam's mouth as he thought of how much Dean would hate how young and vulnerable he looked in that moment. Filing that thought away for possible future torment, once his brother was feeling better, he stood and stretched. The ghost of a smile turned to a grimace as his aching back cracked in a dozen places. His extra-long frame did not seem to really fit anywhere in the normal-sized world, but sitting hunched over a laptop for hours was certainly not helping.

Sam knew he was probably being a little overprotective, the fever had finally broken a couple of hours before. As Dean twitched slightly and a frown creased that little space between his brows, Sam could not help but worry the fever would spike again. The elder brother rarely got sick, but when he did it seemed like his body intended to make sure he was truly down for the count by making it a doozy.

The worry flashed to something close to fear as Dean twitched again and his face crumpled into an almost pained expression. Sam had a brief moment to wonder if he'd missed a symptom of something more serious before Dean's breathing hiccup-hitched into an explosive sneeze that jolted his entire body, partially dislodging the covers.

He could hear Dean's voice in his head chastising him for being a mother hen as he moved to pull the shifted covers back up over the shoulder the sneeze had sneaked out. Unfocused green eyes peered from behind slitted lids.

"S'my?" His sleep-and-sick-roughened voice was soft and confused, not entirely awake or aware.

Sam perched carefully on the edge of the bed, reaching for the glass of water and Tylenol on the bedside stand as he did. Shaking two tablets into his hand, then guiding the bendy straw to Dean's fever-parched lips he spoke softly, "Hey man. Can you take these for me?"

The slow blink and creased brow as he obediently took the Tylenol told Sam what was coming next before Dean even opened his mouth.

"Y'ok'y?" The valiant attempt to focus on his "little" brother's face was almost comical.

Sam smiled and shook his head as he rested his big palm on Dean's forehead, his thumb smoothing the line between the brows as he gauged the warmth there. Not wanting to fully rouse his sick sibling, he kept his deep voice low and soft, "Yeah, Dean, I'm good. We've got nowhere to be and all the time in the world to get there, so why don't you try to get some more sleep?"

His head shifted slightly into the comforting touch as his eyes drifted closed again. There was still a hint of a wheeze to his breathing and Sam made a note to plug some more decongestant into his brother the next time he woke. He sat still for a few moments making sure Dean was fully asleep before slowly standing, careful not to jostle the bed. He could not resist the urge to straighten the blankets again though they really did not need it, deciding a couple hours of sleep might just do him some good too.

Not wanting to sleep too deeply in case his brother needed him, Sam propped his back against the hideous puce and mauve hued headboard and closed his eyes. He settled in listening to the soft, steady breathing from the other bed, taking a moment to be thankful the harsh snores spawned by congestion were now a thing of memory. Not that it necessarily disturbed his few short snatches of sleep, but because he knew it had played hell on Dean's already hurting throat.

The thought that he should get up and close the laptop flashed through his head just before sleep pulled him under.

A fly on the wall of the carefully warded motel room would have heard nothing more than the soft whirr of a well-used laptop and the quiet breathing of the two brothers, synchronized in sleep just as they were when awake.


End file.
